SEAL Team Quinn and Devon


They had a pact. SEAL Team Seven, seven men who had formed an unbreakable bond while fighting to protect their country. None of them would marry until their service to home and country had been fulfilled. Now five of the brothers have found love, smack dab in the middle of them trying to chase down a madman who’s out to destroy them and everything they love.

As the only two left standing, Quinn and Devon decided that their job now was to protect their brothers and their women. Though they got a kick out of watching the by-play between their brothers and their new sisters, neither man believed that life was for him.

Seal Team Quinn and Devon is created by Jordan Silver, an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author.

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Chapter 1: KELLY
"Where are you taking me?" I struggled against the restraints as I tried to take stock of my surroundings. My heart was still beating too loudly in my ears, and the tinny taste of fear lingered in my mouth. I held my breath as best I could and strained to hear what was going on around me over the vicious thumping of my heart. That saying 'blind fear' is very accurate. It felt like all my senses, especially that one was on have the fritz. I worked my jaw when I realized I was gritting my teeth too hard to stop myself from wetting my pants. My body was tense, poised, and ready to take flight, but I couldn't have moved even had I not been tied up and immobile. I slowed my breath, if only to stop the unhealthy racing of my heart, and started to settle down once I realized that there was no immediate danger. It took a sec for my mind to send that message to my body, but my limbs soon started to relax, bit by bit. Once I finally got my bearings, I used my shoulder to feel the place where I now leaned, and the ridged pattern of the hard cold steel gave me some idea of where I was or at least what I was being held captive in. It felt like one of those old rusted containers down by the tracks that my friends and I had liked to goof around in when we were younger. This couldn't be good. That sickening feeling came back with a bang and was now full-blown. I was headed hard towards panic mode as the air got trapped in my lungs. The fear threatened to choke me, and I came very close to passing out, but I fought the feeling until it passed again. 'Fear is your greatest opponent. Never give in; you fight it with everything you've got.' I heard my daddy's voice in my head and never wished for him more. 'If you can defeat fear, you're still in the game.' It was one of his many mantras that had seen me through even the most harrowing situations. Though I've never found myself in anything approaching this magnitude before. Still, one of daddy's life lessons was that my life was worth more than anything I could ever face, no matter who or what. He also taught me that no man on earth had any power over me. The reminder gave me a much-needed second wind and a resurgence of determination which helped to relax me somewhat. I regulated my breathing as best I could, using all the exercises I'd learned. I tried going into a meditative state, but it was no use, too much panic, but at least the mind-numbing fear was now gone. I opened my eyes, a lot calmer now, but still no closer to an answer as to how to get the hell outta this mess. The space was pitch black, and it took some time, but once my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw that I was indeed in a container; one of the long ones semis and freight trains haul. There were no windows, and the lone door was at the other end, what seemed like a million miles away. I started shouting again though I was sure my captors couldn't hear my screams through the metal of my prison and over the rushing of the wheels as they sped through the night. It felt like they were going at least ninety in this death trap. Pretty sure at this rate, we'd be past the city limits in no time, away from everything I know and everyone who could help me. I swallowed the panic as the enormity of my situation kicked in. I'm on my own, can rely only on myself, and I haven't the faintest idea what the hell is going on. What I'd erroneously thought was a sick infantile joke at the hands of my friends just a short while ago has fast become something far more sinister. I clenched my legs tightly together so that I didn't wet myself as the gravity of the situation came crashing down on me. This is the stuff nightmares are made of. An urban legend that you and your friends tell one another late at night in the dark to scare the crap out of each other. What I wouldn't give to be at one of my best friend Connie's crappy sleepovers or trapped in some too real dream. The flop sweat pouring off me in the enclosed space was a solid reminder that this was no dream. Still, it didn't seem real, a bit incongruous if you ask me. Stuff like this just doesn't happen to people like me. I've always avoided trouble, had always been a model child, and even now, in my third year of college, I had yet to give my parents anything to seriously worry about. Okay, that's probably bullshit. Dad has lamented time and again that my antics would send him to an early grave, but he's the king of exaggeration. Really Kelly? You're thinking about this s**t now? I knew it was my mind's way of protecting me from the true horror of my situation, but I also knew I couldn't afford to linger there for too long. Instead, I closed my eyes and concentrated on beating back the fear that was insistent on taking me over. "Step off bitch." I flexed my shoulders as much as I could while being trussed up like a hog going to market and let my mind go blank. Daddy had taught me a lot of neat tricks, what he calls survival exercises, and they've never been needed more than at this moment. I'm blind, yes, don't know where I am, where I'm headed, or who snatched me, but this was one of those things I'd been trained for. All I have to do is remain calm and use whatever resources come my way when they let me out of this death trap. I felt my body relax, and as the fear receded and my mind began to clear, anger reared its head, good. Now I know I'm back in the game. If fear is a great defeater, controlled rage has always been my friend. Rage reminds me that I am human and have certain inalienable rights that protect me from assholes who seek to do harm. I let the rage build until it was at a nice simmering boil. My training was finally kicking in. Daddy always said in certain situations, a good head of anger can get you a long way, as long as you can control it and not let it control you. Anger reminds you that you're still in the fight, that you still have a chance. Anger doesn't throw punches like a p***y, but has some power behind it. With my thoughts finally, in order, I worked on my breathing and getting my body under complete control. Each time my mind drifted to the end of this road, and what that might be, I dragged it back from the brink. No matter what, I will fight 'til the end. If nothing else, I will make daddy proud by not giving in too easy. Maybe that could be my epitaph.

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